


At Night the Truth Comes Out

by malsseong



Category: A Midsummer Night's Dream, Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malsseong/pseuds/malsseong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helena takes a midnight stroll through the gardens, and Hermia joins her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Night the Truth Comes Out

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of Helena/Demetrius, but not enough that I felt it needed a tag; correct me if I'm wrong.

By the moonlight coming through the shutters over the window, she can just make out the shape of the cornices and the shadow of the ceiling moulding.

She’s not sure how long she’s been laying awake in the darkness since the last candle in the room was extinguished. But in the time she’s lain here, she’s heard 4 examples of what she’s sure is probably an endless catalogue of varieties of snores Demetrius is capable of.

The longer she lays in the darkness, the more she is overcome by the sinking feeling that knowing more of Demetrius will mean loving him less.

With a long sigh, she displaces Demetrius's hand from its place on her hip, and slips out from beneath the covers.

She pulls on her drawers, her chemise and her stockings, and then stops, dress in hand. The thought of putting on the dress she’d married Demetrius in only hours before makes her stomach turn. She drapes the dress over the back of the chair, and chooses a different dress from the wardrobe. She pulls it on hastily, barely bothering to tighten the laces, before slipping on her shoes and leaving the room as silently as she can.

She’s not sure where she’s heading, but she follows the flicker of candles downstairs and outside.

The garden is alight with the hundreds of lanterns, and she stops for a moment, revelling in the sight.

She allows her fingers to brush across the surface of the water in the fountain as she passes, then rounds the garden wall until she is out of sight of the house, then moves to rest her back against the wall as she sucks in breath after breath of the crisp night air, suddenly feeling too hot and confined.

The sky is covered in a blanket of stars, and she allows herself to become absorbed in them as she attempts to calm her mind.

With a ragged sigh, she pushes herself away from the wall and falls gracelessly onto the garden bench, taking a measure of comfort in the coolness of the stone beneath her palms.

So lost is she in the glitter of the stars and the rustle of the cold night breeze in the hedges that the sound of footsteps does not register in her mind until after they’ve stopped and a warm body has pressed up against her own side.

She doesn’t need to look to know who it is; she knows Hermia’s presence better than that of anyone else in the world. She’s had her entire lifetime to memorise the way the other woman smells, and the timing with which her breaths come, and the unique heat her body radiates.

She has no idea how long they sit there in silence, as still as the statues around them. But by the time Hermia shifts beside her, the marble beneath her has begun to match her body temperature and her neck is beginning to cramp from being angled up towards the sky for so long.

Hermia’s head fits perfectly against her neck, just as it has always done. And when she feels Hermia’s lips against her throat, and feels the other woman’s hot breath on her skin, she is overwhelmed by visions of similar summer’s evenings spent resting with her back against the rough bark of a tree and her friend’s lips pressed against her own.

She smiles so that only the stars can see, then tears her eyes away from them in favour of watching Hermia’s eyelashes flutter against her pink-flushed cheeks. She pulls the other woman nearer, and presses their lips together, allowing her own eyes to close.

Hermia sighs dreamily as they pull apart, and Helena can’t help pressing a kiss to the tip of her friend’s nose, causing her lips to pull upwards into a smile which she quickly kisses away.

Tonight, she will allow herself to get lost in her childhood playmate’s eyes and her lips and her soft touches. And in the morning, when she and her new husband join the other couples for breakfast, she will find herself seated next to Hermia – just as she will countless more times over the years – and if their hands find one another underneath the table or in each other’s laps, their husbands will be none the wiser. And when she and Hermia excuse themselves from the table, citing a need for fresh air, they will find some empty corner of the garden and she will kiss the taste of fresh bread and honey from her friend’s lips just as she always has done and always will do.


End file.
